


You Said We'd Only Die of Lonely Secrets

by JackEPeace



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Canon Divergence, F/M, and there's no actual 'relationship' I guess not really, my hopes for season 5 honestly, self indulgent fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-28
Updated: 2017-06-28
Packaged: 2018-11-19 23:43:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,547
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11324166
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JackEPeace/pseuds/JackEPeace
Summary: “I think this is an awful idea,” Jemma says, standing several yards away from him in the lab with her arms crossed over her chest.Fitz doesn’t look at her. “I know.” And she’s probably right. It probably is an awful idea. Even still, he finishes plugging Aida up to his tablet.AKA what I really want to happen in season five.





	You Said We'd Only Die of Lonely Secrets

**Author's Note:**

> My hopes for season 5 (mostly) so...enjoy? 
> 
> The title comes from the song "The System Only Dreams in Total Darkness" by The National, which is a song I basically consider to be Ophelia/Aida's theme song just saying. 
> 
> Also it was weird to type Aida and not Ophelia through this whole story so.

May is the one who finds her.

They're there in Radcliffe's house to clean up loose ends, to dispose of any equipment or information that they don't want to fall into the wrong hands. Fitz thinks there might be a self-flagellation element involved but he doesn't point this out. He hasn't said much of anything recently.

Instead, he just stands in the living room, running his finger against the spines of the books that Radcliffe kept in the built-in bookshelves around the entertainment center. Most of them are about the human brain and neoplasm, something that only makes sense looking back on things.

When the shot rings out throughout the house, Fitz jumps, knocking one of the books off the shelf. He doesn't bother to pick it up, hurrying with the others toward the sound of the gunshot.

May is standing in a room Fitz hadn't even been aware of, the steel-enforced door open, her gun drawn and her body coiled and ready. A light, flickering and on its last leg, is glowing from inside the room, illuminating the shape of something there inside. Some _one_ , Fitz can see and at first he thinks that's what caused May to fire her weapon: the shadowy figure.

But then he realizes. May would never have been so quick to react, so impulsive. She'd pulled the trigger for a reason.

The sight of the familiar face, placid and blank, suddenly makes it difficult for Fitz to swallow. He'd last seen that face, desperate and dying, eyes on him as she begged for a rescue she knew wasn't coming. And now, here it is again: the soft, sloping features, the almost inhuman beauty, the blank canvas of someone that looks so human but isn't.

Ophelia. Though Fitz assumes Aida might be the proper name if her surroundings are any indication. A soft, green light glows in her chest and there are wires attached to the back of her body. Despite the bullet buried in her chest and the blood trickling down her grey tunic, her face is utterly expressionless, exhibiting the kind of serenity humans search their entire lives for.

An android. Another one.

Mack is the first to speak. "Oh, hell no," he grumbles, tightening his grip on his weapon. "Not another one. How many of these things are there?"

All heads turn in his direction. Even Jemma's, though Fitz can tell she's trying not to pay much too much attention, trying not to seem skeptical and accusatory.

Fitz can only shake his head. "I don't know," he says truthfully. "I have no idea how many copies Radcliffe made."

"What does it matter?" Elena asks. "We just take care of it and see if there are more."

It's not Ophelia. In the back of Fitz's mind, he understands this. But it's hard to remember that looking at her face.

"Wait," Fitz says quietly as Mack and Coulson step into the room and up to the sleeping android. Now Jemma is looking at him, and Daisy too, and he only clears his throat. "We…we don't need to necessarily destroy her."

Daisy gives him a look, a silent sort of suggestion for him to backtrack. "We don't?"

Fitz enters the room, his face green in the glow from her chest. "Radcliffe's original intentions were good," he says, looking at Coulson. "We might have a use for the technology. Especially now."

Now that they're all going to be on the run again. Now that they're wanted by the government. Again.

Coulson frowns but even still, Fitz can tell he's listening. "What do you mean?"

"The original programming was for her to protect," Fitz points out. "She was designed to help save lives."

Jemma shakes her head. "We don't know that this AIDA has its original programing," she points out. "We have no idea when Radcliffe created it, what personality or directives he might have uploaded. It's too risky."

Mack nods. "I'm with her," he says. "Why would we want to go through all of this again when we could just…" He trails off, mimicking swinging his axe.

It's a battle Fitz isn't sure that he'll win. It's a battle Fitz isn't even sure he wants to try for. What does it matter? The thing in front of him is just an android, regardless of what face she's wearing. He's trying to repent, trying to make amends for what he'd helped Radcliffe do. He's not entirely sure this is the way to do it.

But still, Fitz only looks at them, his palms held open and empty in front of him. "We could study her," he says weakly.

"We don't need that technology," May points out and, as usual, her expression betrays little of how she's actually feeling. "What would be the point?"

He could let it go. He _should_ let it go, he understands that. But the light in her chest is pulsing like a heartbeat and suddenly Fitz finds himself feeling so deeply, unexplainably lonely.

"We might need every advantage we have now," Fitz points out. "She might prove to be that advantage." He looks over at Jemma. "She saved your life once."

Jemma frowns, unimpressed. "Once," she says flatly. "And that was not _this_ AIDA."

Fitz gives them a final, entreating look. "It might be."

No one argues when Coulson finally consents to taking Aida with them. But no one agrees with him either.

* * *

 

"I think this is an awful idea," Jemma says, standing several yards away from him in the lab with her arms crossed over her chest.

Fitz doesn't look at her. "I know." And she's probably right. It probably is an awful idea. Even still, he finishes plugging Aida up to his tablet.

She's the only one who's bothered to stick around and watch and Fitz is certain it's only morbid curiosity that's keeping Jemma around. Things haven't been the same between them for the past several days. He'd already lost her, before they'd found Aida in that back room.

Maybe that had been why it was so easy for him to insist they bring Aida back with them.

Or maybe it was something else.

"Fitz," Jemma tries again. "Think about what you're doing."

He doesn't respond because Aida is coming awake suddenly, her movements eerily robotic in a way that Aida, their Aida, hadn't been for quite some time. Fitz wonders if he should take that as a good sign.

Her eyes snap open and she fixes him with her gaze. "Agent Fitz," she says with a stiff sort of warmth. "It's nice to finally meet you."

Fitz looks over his shoulder at Jemma, though her expression is closed off, her brow knitted together, eyes dark. "That's a good sign?" He says hopefully.

Jemma says nothing. Aida looks at her and her smile doesn't change. "Agent Simmons. It's nice to finally meet you."

Jemma turns and leaves the lab and Fitz doesn't bother to call after her.

Aida is looking at him again. "Did I say something wrong?"

"No," Fitz says, shaking his head. "No. It's…it's not you."

Aida nods, reassured. How simple it must be to be her, he thinks. "That's a relief."

Fitz can't help but study her. The code is tracking across his screen, a bit jumbled and messier than what he'd been used to when making improvements and upgrades with Radcliffe. It's far from polished and he can see the knots that he could smooth out, the things to make her already appear more human. He resists the urge.

It's strange how she just stares back at him, her face blank and expectant, waiting for a command. She barely even blinks, another bug that could be fixed. She's old and obsolete, a body and mind discarded for a newer, improved model.

Finally Fitz breaks their silence. "You know me." It somehow manages to be both a statement and a question at once.

"Of course," Aida answers promptly. "You're Agent Leopold Fitz, of SHIELD. Dr. Radcliffe has told me so much about you." She pauses and only the barest changes in expression slides across her face. "Where is Dr. Radcliffe?"

Fitz clears his throat, scrubbing a hand across his face. "He's dead."

A flicker of surprise, a passable expression of compassion. "Oh. I'm sorry to hear that, Leopold."

"Fitz," he corrects quickly. "And, yeah. It's…" What exactly? Fitz isn't sure the appropriate adjective for the fate that befell Holden Radcliffe, especially when talking to the face his murderer also wore.

Aida lifts her arm, stiff and robotic, and puts it on his shoulder. "I am sorry to hear that," she says again. "I know you've lost many of your friends." Fitz says nothing and she continues. "That's the reason I was created: to help ensure that no one else has to die."

Fitz clears his throat, nodding. "Yeah, Aida, I know."

* * *

 

Fitz shows them all the code on his tablet, though he's certain only Jemma and Daisy really understand what they're seeing. "This is an original variation of Aida," he says, handing the tablet over when Daisy reaches for it. "Probably the one that predated the Aida we all knew."

Mack leans back in his chair, his expression pensive but closed off. "I'm just not sure that really means anything."

"Radcliffe's original intentions with Aida were good," Fitz says. "She seems to still have of that programing. She would be loyal to the team."

This is, of course, an assumption. But one Fitz feels oddly comfortable in making after his conversations with Aida and his thorough review of her programing.

Daisy holds the tablet out to Jemma but she only shakes her head, waving her hand. "You're making a lot of assumptions," she says, looking at Fitz.

Fitz nods. "I know."

Coulson glances over at May and seems to see something in her expression that makes him clasp his hands together. "Well," he says, "things can't get any worse, right? We might need someone who will take a bullet for us."

His forcibly chipper attitude doesn't make any of them feel better. But it seems like the discussion has been tabled for now.

Jemma follows after him as he leaves and Fitz turns to face her, surprised. "You know this isn't going to change anything, right?" Jemma says and there's something gentle in her tone, like she doesn't want her words to hurt him. "That's not her."

Fitz rubs absently at the side of his head, nodding. "Yeah, no, I know."

* * *

 

He's taken to sleeping in the lab now, not to be close to her but to give Jemma her space. To give them _their_ space. There's no reason to pretend like they should still be sharing a room and Fitz can tell that Jemma is almost appreciative of dropping this pretense.

Coulson keeps the remote to turn Aida on and off and Fitz doesn't bother telling him that he can also do that on his tablet, figuring it will make everyone feel better to think that Coulson is the only one who can control her.

Aida is self-aware while at the same time painfully disinterested in her own consciousness. "I know I'm an android, modeled after the human form," she tells Fitz, seemingly unbothered by his continual rounds of questionings. "Dr. Radcliffe made my purpose very clear."

She has no interests of her own, doing nothing but waiting for a directive from someone else. Fitz figures that will make the team more at ease, more comfortable having her here.

It just makes him miss someone else.

"Why doesn't the rest of the team ever come in here?" Aida questions one morning when Fitz is running the first of several daily diagnostic tests. Another request from Coulson so that they stay abreast of any developments in her programing. By which, Fitz assumes he means modifications that Aida does on herself. "You are the only person I ever see."

Fitz isn't sure how to answer. She seems genuinely curious and she'd obviously catalogued this occurrence, collecting data on the team's habits. "They aren't…" He stops, hesitant. "They just don't know you that well, Aida."

"Of course they don't," Aida remarks. "They never come to see me."

There's a hint of a smile on her face like Aida's aware that she's said something passing as humorous. Fitz feels a tug in his chest. "Aida," he says, "do you know the phrase 'once bitten, twice shy?'"

Aida's head tilts slightly and he can all but see her mind searching for the phrase, pulling up the reference, adding it to her growing database of knowledge. Finally, she blinks and looks at him. "Yes, I understand."

"That's how they feel about you," he tells her. "They don't entirely trust you. Because of something that happened before."

"I don't understand, Agent Fitz." She hasn't called him Leopold since the first time he'd corrected her. "I hardly know them. If given the chance, surely I could assuage any concerns they might have."

Fitz nods. "Yeah, Aida, I know." He sets aside his tablet so he can give her his full attention. "There was another you, once. Err…sort of. Radcliffe made her too and she wasn't…she was different than you. Her programming wasn't the same."

Aida mimics his nod, his serious expression. "Yes, I see," she says and Fitz wonders if maybe she does. "She was the reason the team was…once bitten."

Fitz smiles in spite of himself. "Yeah, I guess you could say that," he agrees.

Aida looks sad, a genuine and deep expression. "Oh." She seems almost confused as she considers what to say next. "That makes me…disappointed," she decides finally.

Fitz nods absently but then he considers her more closely. This moment, small and inconsequential that might somehow many something anyway. "Do you want them to like you?"

"Yes," Aida answers easily. "I do want that."

A desire, small and unimportant, but there all the same.

Fitz wonders if he's wrong for wanting her to continue on this path, to grow and learn and to want things.

"What else do you want, Aida?" He asks despite the voice that tells him it doesn't matter.

Aida doesn't answer, only looking at him with a hint of incomprehension. "I want to help."

Fitz nods, trying not to be disappointed. "I know you do."

After all, what was he expecting anyway?

* * *

 

Sometimes, Fitz dreams of her. Both of them, both the women he'd fallen in love with over the course of his two lives, both women who are lost to him now. But it's usually only one who features so prevalently in his dreams, the memories that border on nightmares.

Not because of what he did, what they did together. Not because of the man he was in that other world. Those aren't the nightmarish images that plague is mind while he sleeps. Instead he sees the things that happened in this world, the moments where he turned her from someone full of childlike exuberance to the monster they all believed her to be.

He always wakes up suddenly, heart pounding in his chest, sweat on his skin, the smell of fire in his nose.

Fitz gasps in the darkness of the lab, nearly tumbling off the couch that had been moved into one corner. He tosses the blanket off himself, sitting up and hiding his face in his hands. He squeezes his eyes closed, trying to force away the memory of what he'd seen in his mind, the look in Ophelia's eyes as she'd-

"Agent Fitz?"

He jumps because of the voice in the room, her voice.

No, not hers. But close enough.

Fitz looks up, surprised. "Aida?" He peers at her through the darkness. "Did I forget to-"

"I'm detecting an elevated heart hate," Aida interrupts and the expression on her face is one of passable human concern. "Are you under distress?"

Fitz shakes his head. "No, everything is fine," he tells her. "Just a dream."

Silence for a moment and then, "Yes, I see. Sometimes dreams can cause the mind to experience feelings of panic and fear." Aida steps closer and without thinking he makes room on the couch for her to sit beside him. "It is important to note that dreams aren't real and offer no chance of real physical harm."

"Yes, I know Aida," Fitz says dully. "But they still feel real. Sometimes."

Aida puts her hand on his knee and Fitz knows that he shouldn't take the immediate comfort in her touch that he does. "It's okay, Agent Fitz," she says. "I can sit up with you until you feel relaxed again."

It doesn't do him any good to think about another version of her, the one from another world who would do the same.

When he finally does feel heavy with sleep again, Fitz doesn't bother finding his tablet to ensure that Aida is properly turned off this time.

* * *

 

Eventually, Aida gets to do what she's been created to do.

Talbot's men find the base and their guns aren't equipped with the bullets that merely render their target unconscious. They'd always known that this moment was coming but they'd let themselves become complacent anyway, staying in the base for a week, two, three, as though it wouldn't be the first place that the soldiers would look for them.

And when they arrive, there's no real plan, no previous discussion about how to get out and where to go. There's only the moment they've experienced dozens of times already: the moment where everything else falls away and all that matters is not dying.

Fitz is with Mack and Elena when it happens and they're the closest to what's left of their vehicles, an easy and quick escape. But still, Fitz finds himself breaking away from them, running back down the twisting and in some places collapsed hallways of the base. He feels guilty because his motivation isn't for the rest of his team but for her.

Fitz snatches the tablet off the desk, turning Aida on quickly, silencing her usual smile and greeting with a quick wave of his hand. "We need to go, now," he tells her and her expression becomes one of confusion. Not fear, only the look of someone a step behind everyone else. "Hurry. Stay close."

They find May, a gun in her hand, her posture tense and coiled as she moves to find an exit. When she sees Aida there she looks only annoyed, though hardly surprised. "Where are the others?" May questions, ignoring Aida completely.

"Mack and Elena are trying to find a working car," Fitz tells her. "I haven't seen anyone else."

They turn a corner and find one of Talbot's men waiting for them. He points his gun at May but it's Aida who falls backward, letting out a grunt of pain and a whoosh of air. May doesn't hesitate, pointing her gun at the man and pulling the trigger, eliminating Fitz's fear that he's about to get a bullet in the back of the head as he kneels down beside Aida.

May crouches down on her other side, looking at the blood on her chest, the twisted expression of pain on Aida's face. "I don't understand," she looks at Fitz. "She can feel it?"

"She can feel pain," Fitz says, putting an arm behind Aida's back and trying to help her into a sitting position.

"It is part of my programming," Aida tells them, groaning as she sits up. "It will pass soon. I think."

May doesn't say anything as she helps Fitz get Aida to her feet. Aida presses a hand to her stomach, a subconscious gesture more than anything else, letting out a soft whimper at the pressure. May looks at her for a moment longer before glancing at Fitz, nodding once, a terse sort of understanding.

Together, they get Aida through the base and to where Mack, Elena and Coulson are waiting beside one of the nondescript cars. Fitz settles himself in the back beside Aida and she lets out a breath between clinched teeth, pressing her forehead against the window. "It hurts," she tells him and there's a moment, a brief flash, where he sees his Ophelia, marveling at sensation for the first time.

Fitz takes her hand without thinking. "I know," he tells her and it's surprisingly easy to squeeze her hand, to rub his thumb against her wrist. "It'll pass."

* * *

 

Daisy and Jemma manage to reunite with them in the corner of some small, dirty parking lot in front of a small, dirty diner. Everything is dark aside from the glow from the neon signs proclaiming the twenty-four-hour nature of the mostly empty restaurant. Fitz is still with Aida in the cargo area of the Jeep, simply holding her hand and waiting for the team to reunite. Despite everything they've been through, Fitz had been somehow unworried about Jemma and Daisy, certain they'd find their way out of the base and return, just like they'd done a dozen times before.

And they do and Fitz is relieved but unsurprised. They look banged up but otherwise no worse for wear, which officially makes Aida the only one among them who suffered any physical damage from Talbot's men.

Not that Fitz is going to point that out.

* * *

 

The next time, it's three bullets, each of them meant for Daisy and Jemma.

It's Mack who helps Fitz get Aida out of further harm, since she can't walk on her own and he isn't much use either, not when it really comes down to it. But Mack is there, lifting Aida over his shoulder like he might any other member of the team and they escape another moment, another group looking for them, another reminder that they aren't as safe and off the radar as they might think.

There's nothing, really, for them to do after these moments. Aida isn't truly in danger of death so any sort of medical care is unnecessary; the only sensation she can feel is pain so even any type of pharmaceutical aid is useless.

"It's okay," Fitz tells Aida, pointlessly maybe but he says the words anyway, "you'll be okay, Oph-Aida."

She looks at him but Fitz misses her expression when he lifts his head in the direction of the person who clears her throat in the doorway of their cheap motel room. It's Jemma, standing there with hurt in her eyes and concern on her face. She holds out a shirt, an old one of hers. "Here." She passes it to Fitz. "One without bullet holes."

Fitz nods, clearing his throat. "Thanks."

Jemma looks at Aida, pursing her lips into a tight line. It seems to be a surprise to all of them when she says, "Thank you."

Aida only nods. "You're welcome, Agent Simmons. It's my job to protect you. Everyone." She says this like it's the most obvious thing in the world, the only thing that matters.

Jemma doesn't say anything to that, looking at Fitz instead. "She isn't human," she tells him. "You know that."

Fitz nods. "Yes, I know," he assures her. "She was human once. And we killed her."

Jemma leaves without saying anything more after that. Fitz can't blame her, though he doesn't regret the words.

"The other version of me," Aida says later when the pain has passed and she's wearing Jemma's shirt. "You knew her." It's not a question but Fitz nods. "Did you know her well?"

Fitz swallows. "Yes." There's no reason for him to lie, not to her. Not to someone who will always assume every word out of a person's mouth is truth. "We were close."

"And you miss her." Again, it's not a question. Fitz is impressed with how far this Aida has come, how she's managed to learn so much about all of them even while being kept at arm's length.

But again, Fitz tells her the truth. "Yes." It feels good to admit it to someone.

* * *

 

"If this is going to keep happening," Fitz snaps as he looks at the team, assembled around him. He's the odd one out. "If you're going to keep treating her like your bloody personal shield, you might want to think about throwing that goddamn remote in the garbage and treating her like someone real."

No one seems sure of what to say. He hates the way they're all looking at him now, the way they did after what happened with Ward and the pod and the ocean, like they think he might break. Like they're afraid to be the ones to break him.

"Fitz," Daisy says gently, "she isn't human though. I mean, we're all grateful, obviously, she's saved our lives but-"

"She has," Fitz says, looking at all of them. "And she knows that you don't like her. She can feel that too."

It doesn't matter, honestly it doesn't. Fitz has no idea why Aida's all but nonexistent feelings are so important to him. Aida isn't part of the team, not really. She's every bit the pet and oddity she was when Radcliffe was around.

But suddenly it matters.

It's surprising when May is the one to say, "She isn't Ophelia." In a way, Fitz figures it makes sense. She was the only one who truly knew her, even if she knew her as Madame Hydra. She was the only one who saw her with close to the same regularity that he did.

Fitz only shrugs, hopeless. "Isn't that the point?"

* * *

 

She doesn't become part of the team, not officially, but at least they stop keeping her sequestered, stop insisting on turning her off and on at whim. Aida's happiness at this inclusion is muted and strangely hollow, like she understands the definition of the word 'acceptance' but doesn't actually have any deeper understanding of what it means. What it feels like.

And mostly, Fitz has gotten used to having her around. Seeing her face and not letting his first instinct be to think of her as Ophelia, to reach for her, to want her. Ophelia is gone and he figures this might be some sort of absolution, the next best thing, a way to apologize.

Not that there's anyone around who actually needs and can accept any sort of apology.

He likes watching her learn something new, pick up a new human behavior from the team, become a little more polished every day. It's good enough, Fitz reasons. It'll have to be. It'll have to make him happy enough.

"You look sad, Agent Fitz," Aida tells him one morning when it's just the two of them for the time being and the rest of team is not around. "You always look sad."

Fitz nods, briefly. "You're getting better at reading people," he tells her, rather than answer her question.

Aida seems pleased. "I am trying," she assures him. "But," she pauses and her smile disappears, "why are you always sad?"

Fitz thinks about telling her, giving her a list of emotions she can define but not understand. Guilt, longing, loneliness.

But he doesn't. "Just tired, I guess," he tells her instead.

Again, Aida smiles at him, a soft understanding. "How can I help, Agent Fitz?"

He hesitates but decides not to lie, not to her. "You can call me Leopold."


End file.
